Chapter Three
Convalescence
Tifa felt as if she were drowning again.
I promise.
The swell of emotions from those two little words whispered between Cloud's lips surged upwards and slammed into her like a crashing wave, covering her with a confusing blend of pleasant warmth and ice-cold shock. Tendrils of familiarity and longing wrapped around her heart while knives of fear and uncertainty sliced at her veins. She stared down at him, his bright, aquamarine eyes looking back into hers, unblinking and unwavering. His hand tightened slightly around hers, his gloved thumb tracing up along the fine bone of her naked knuckle as he waited for her reaction or response.
I promise.
She was choked. Those words meant something to her. And yet - she didn't know what . She didn't know why her heart beat faster at hearing them or why her vision blurred with that strange tinge of viridian she had first seen when she'd awoken from falling into the reactor. She didn't know why heat flooded her cheeks or why her heart felt squeezed, why it suddenly ached with longing.
But there was a level of commitment behind those words that was somewhat frightening. She didn't know this man, and his words suggested there was something far deeper than their being childhood friends and traveling companions. Aerith had said he was special, but Tifa still didn't know what that meant.
It was petrifying.
She swallowed carefully, feeling the tender feelings give way to sudden anxiety. His gaze was warm and gentle but also expectant, and Tifa hated that she didn't know what to do. She hated that she had nothing to offer him, not a memory or reassurance or even a smile that didn't feel forced. All she had to offer him was emptiness, and it left her feeling inadequate and unavailing.
She nodded, then tore her eyes away from his, destabilized by the intensity in their glow. Gently, she slipped her hand from his.
"Thank you," she managed. She didn't know what else to say. Cloud's hopeful stare suggested he was expecting his words to land with some significance with her. And she hated to disappoint him. But all they did was create confusion and complicated feelings in her.
She didn't miss the disillusionment that crept across his face, even as he tried to hide it by lowering his eyes with a curt nod before getting back to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. He backed slightly away, giving Tifa some space as he averted his eyes, looking around Cissnei's kitchen as if for a distraction.
Tifa herself certainly needed one. She felt like she was suffocating in this tiny hut and she needed time and space to sort out her feelings and the confusion that was taking up space in her head. She glanced out the window, seeing the bright sunshine and blue skies. Before Cloud could speak, she pushed up to her feet, brushing off her skirt and adjusting her suspenders.
"I think I'll go for a walk," she told him.
Cloud's eyes widened, and he frowned immediately. She could see that he was going to try and talk her out of it. He took a step forward, almost as if to block her from making her way to the door.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked. His voice was stricken, a cross between serious and mildly pained. "The doctor said you need to rest, and you shouldn't be traveling."
"Walking around the village isn't traveling," Tifa insisted. His frown deepened into a pout, and she saw the war flashing behind his eyes. "I just need some sunshine and air. That'll help me get better faster than anything."
The resignation in Cloud's face told her that he knew he couldn't argue with that. Still, he didn't relent easily.
"I'll come with you," he declared.
Tifa's chest tightened. She needed space from him if she was ever going to clear her head and make sense of things. Cloud turned to start for the door, and she knew already that he was the type to be headstrong about things once he was determined. She bit her lip, shaking her head.
"No, Cloud," she stopped him. "I - I want to be alone for a little while."
This seemed to startle him. He stopped, turning back to face her.
"But -"
"I'll be fine," she reassured him quickly. The crestfallen look on his face shattered something inside of her, and she turned away, trying to tamp down the new surge of complex feelings that were rising. "I won't go far."
She moved quickly, wanting to be out of his presence. The hurt, puppy-dog look in his eyes was withering her more than she expected, and it only made her fret even more over their relationship.
She didn't wait for him to respond and he seemed torn, turning and watching her go. When she reached the door, she turned back and gave him a reassuring wave before slipping out of the front door.
He nodded, but she didn't miss the hurt and stricken look that pulled at his features.
Outside, Tifa stood in front of Cissnei's house and inhaled deeply. It was only then that she realized that her heart was racing. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm her nerves and center herself amid the storm of emotions raging inside her.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
She closed her eyes as she breathed steadily and repeated the mantra to herself. She wasn't sure where she had learned it, but it was a skill she seemed to have mastered and it did wonders to anchor her and ease the tight choke of anxiety. Sighing, she looked around the village, mapping out a trail for what was sure to be an aimless walk.
Morning was well underway and the village was bustling, people weaving to and fro in the streets and shops and stands open for business. Tifa followed the main road through the center of town, holding her hands in front of her she went, observing the goings-on of the small but industrious jungle settlement. Tifa watched as farmers came and went with their wares and equipment, while merchants haggled and militiamen traversed the roads, keeping an eye out for fiends. She watched children play in the streets and follow older teenagers around on odd jobs as if they were their apprentices, and she wondered if there was any formal schooling in Gongaga.
The thought tugged at faded memories that she still couldn't seem to polish into clarity. She wondered what her childhood had been like and it pained her greatly that she couldn't remember any of it. Again, she recalled what Aerith had said about her and Cloud being childhood friends, and she made a mental note to ask him about where they had grown up when the time was right.
Crossing her way to the center of town, she came upon a small memorial seated on the top of a hill in the center of the winding roads, a stone edifice surrounded by flowers and bright Gongaga mushrooms. The railed enclosure overlooked a steep fall into the thick understory of the jungle below, and in the distance, provided a sweeping view of the dilapidated Gongaga Reactor.
Reading the inscription carved into the slab of marble beneath a fresh bouquet of carnations, Tifa noted that the memorial was dedicated to the victims of the reactor's explosion years ago. She looked up, a heaviness filling her heart at the sight of the names that were written there.
The side of the reactor with its twisted and broken spires of metal made Tifa's stomach lurch. She found herself thinking of Cloud again, the questions beginning to stack. Why was she traveling with Cloud and the others - such a motley and unruly bunch? Why were they at the reactor and how had she managed to fall into mako? How did she get attacked by a WEAPON, and more importantly, how had she survived?
Her thoughts swung back to Cloud. They had known each other in childhood it seemed, but what were they to one another now? Why did Cloud look at her so intently, and why did he seem hesitant to be away from her side? Why did he always stand so close, and why did he look so miserable when she told him she wanted to be alone? What had he been expecting?
Why had her heart fluttered and soared when he said the word promise , only to fall back to the soles of her feet?
The realization that there was probably nothing she could do to figure out the answers to any of these questions on her own left her feeling trapped and terrified, her heart picking up speed again. She sucked in another deep breath and shook her head, turning away from the reactor and the memorial and following the path through a patch of mushrooms.
For whatever reason, she was intrigued by the assortment, their colors and sizes and shapes, and used the opportunity to distract herself by picking a few. She wasn't sure what she might do with them at first, but something told her they could be quite useful, perhaps in cooking. Nonetheless, she was happy to busy herself with a task that was relatively mindless and kept her from pondering over the painstaking questions and blank slates of memories that were looming over her.
She filled the pouches of her skirt with as many as she could carry before crossing the bridge over a small stream and climbing the hill to the northern part of town. The road widened with thick dirt that had been routinely trampled by chocobo talons, and small patches of farmland littered the open space. The dense tree line began to thin and grow sparse, letting in wide, unbidden bands of sunlight. Tifa squinted as she made her way, stopping when she came across an older couple standing outside in front of their home.
The woman was wiping her hands off on a towel while the man was loading farming equipment into a chocobo cart. Tifa stopped, realizing she had nearly traversed private property. She hung back by the tree line, ready to turn back the way she came when she overheard their voices.
"I want to talk to her again," the woman said.
The man shook his head. "What good will that do either of us? It isn't going to bring Zack back. No, I think that young woman has been through enough. And so have you."
The woman - his wife, Tifa surmised - lowered her head and sniffed. The man approached her and gathered her into his arms, and Tifa immediately felt her embarrassment grow at witnessing their private moment, turning away to head back towards town.
"Maybe Aerith will visit again," the man conceded consolingly.
That caught Tifa's attention. She looked back, watching as they comforted one another silently. The woman said nothing else, and Tifa wrinkled her nose, wondering how Aerith knew these people and if it had anything to do with why they had come here and why they'd visited the reactor.
Zack …
A familiar if not somewhat generic name. Tifa sighed, knowing it was foolish to try and chalk that up to anything useful to her depleted memory. She sighed, following the bridge back the way she came and taking the road to the southeastern side of town.
She thought about Aerith again as she walked, remembering how enthusiastically the girl had greeted her and how she had mentioned that she was an Ancient. When had Tifa become friends with Ancients? When had they met one another?
Her thoughts drifted to the harried conversation between the group before they'd departed, leaving her and Cloud behind in Gongaga. The planet was in danger. We need to get a move on. We need to put our lives on the line to save hers.
It was so confusing. Bleak tendrils seemed to snap at the edge of her mind, promising the edge of a memory that might remind her of why she was traveling with Ancients and talking beasts and freedom fighters. And maybe it would remind her why the blond-haired boy stirred her heart and looked at her with such openness and need. But they were all out of reach, and she remained surrounded by white, empty space, voids on all sides that betrayed the gaps her injuries left on her brain.
A sharp command and a few shouts to her right caught her attention, and Tifa stopped to catch sight of a group of local militiamen and women lined up and sparring with one another, practicing a variety of kicks and punches and twirls. Their movements were fluid and choreographed, practiced and precise. One man circled the group, critiquing their form and pointing out corrections here and there.
Tifa stared, her fingers twitching at her sides. She held up a hand, looking down at her palms. She hadn't put on any of her gloves and armor, and for the first time since she had awoken, she wondered why she might have needed any of it.
Surges of familiar sensory memories assailed her. Her knuckles bruised and torn and calloused, her thighs aching after another round of training until the lactic acid in her muscles burned. The rush of air in her lungs as she twirled and roundhoused in the air, the sharp, metallic scent of blood when her fists cut through the soft, messy give of flesh.
The leader passed by her then, shouting another command, and the group turned, switching partners and beginning a new set of parries and kicks. Intrigued, Tifa found herself suddenly and compulsively stopping him.
"What are they doing?" she blurted.
The militiaman stopped, turning to face her. He was young and dressed in very similar leather and linen garb as Cissnei had been, the patches of color in his belts and vests denoting his rank. "Zangan-Ryu," he answered bluntly. "I was taught by the master himself when I was a kid. Me and my brother both were his only pupils in Gongaga. Anyway, I've been teaching this form of combat to the rest of the militia as part of the village self-defense. Cissnei thinks I'm doing great!"
He turned away, leaving Tifa standing there as he returned to drilling with the others. But she stared blankly, her mouth slightly open as a fresh wave of blurred memories hit her.
Mountains with twisted peaks. A dangerous river that every child in the village was told to avoid. Old people practicing in the village square. A man with thick muscles and a deep voice, chanting her name and urging her not to give up.
The sudden influx was dizzying. The memories were gray and disconnected and once again, they were meaningless.
She backed away, finding a nearby bench to sit on and gather her thoughts. Her head was beginning to ache again, and she just wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep. She cradled her head in her hands, watching the militia for a few more moments before closing her eyes and bowing her head.
She couldn't stop herself when she began to cry.
Cloud tried to stop himself from following Tifa around town, but it was impossible.
There was no way that he could sit back in Cissnei's house and do nothing while Tifa was wandering around alone. He hadn't wanted to argue with her and he knew that things were on unstable ground between them at the moment. Even so, he had to make sure she was safe and so after pacing back and forth in Cissnei's living room for a few moments, he slipped out the front door, quietly shadowing Tifa as she made her way through town and using every stealth skill he had learned in SOLDIER to keep her from detecting him.
Keeping his eyes on her as he meandered through town as inconspicuously as possible, Cloud's mind was the most restless it had been since they'd left Midgar. Tifa's amnesia was a bigger problem than he thought he'd know how to deal with. Not only had she forgotten years of critical memories, but she was now somewhat suspicious and distrusting of everything and everyone, including him.
It tore him apart inside. All he had ever wanted was to be her hero, to be someone special, someone she could look up to and admire. Someone who she could believe in and someone she could trust with her heart. Just when he thought he may have been close to earning that, it was snatched away from him forever.
And she had forgotten their promise. More than anything, their promise atop the water tower under shimmery night skies had been the one thing keeping him anchored, and now, it had lost its significance to her. It tore at his soul.
He had berated himself endlessly for forgetting it once, but now the tables had been turned.
He hung back in the distance, watching as Tifa made her way around town, her steps slow as she looked around, absorbing the sights of the village around her. She moved like a person seeing everything for the first time. He watched from the cover of a large tree as she visited the memorial and inspected the nearby mushroom patches, and when she stopped outside of Zack Fair's parents' home, Cloud felt a sudden surge of anxiety and almost retreated.
He backed up to the edge of the village bridge, hiding again beneath the foliage overhead. He shook his head, inwardly despairing over the mess of their entire visit to Gongaga.
He pushed it aside when he saw Tifa suddenly settle on a bench near the center of town, outside the sparring exercises of a militia group. The slump in her shoulders and the way she dug her toes despairingly into the dirt caught his eye, and Cloud watched her carefully, his heart squeezing with pain when she suddenly lowered her face into her hands and began to cry.
Mild panic swelled inside of him. More than anything, Cloud hated to see Tifa cry. He hated seeing her hurt or in any sort of pain, and even though he wasn't sure what had triggered such a reaction, he had to act.
No matter what, he intended to keep his promise to her. Even if she didn't remember it.
Hesitating, Cloud stood and watched Tifa for a moment, clenching his hands into fists before he decided to act. She might be angry with him for following her around town but he didn't care. He wasn't going to sit there and let her shatter right in front of his eyes like that.
Swallowing determinedly, Cloud stepped out of his place in the shade and approached the bench where Tifa sat, his steps light but resolute. She sat with her head low, her long, chocolate-brown hair shielding her face from the world. Cloud could hear her light sniffles as she wept, breaking his heart into a million pieces.
"…Tifa?"
She looked up slowly at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise when she saw him hovering over her. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her eyes puffy and red, her lashes wet when she blinked at him.
"Cloud?"
The shaky but seeking way that Tifa called his name reeled him in closer to her, and Cloud slid to a seat next to her on the bench. He had to fight hard to resist the compulsion to wrap his arms around her and pull her in tight. The last time she had spilled her tears in front of him, he cradled her close, a moment he still thought about every hour of every day.
He staved off the urge and instead focused his attention on her, locking eyes with hers. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You were gone for a while, so I came looking to make sure you were okay. Why are you crying, Tifa?"
Tifa looked down at her hands, opening them wide to study palms before closing them again into tight fists. She glanced back up at Cloud, shaking her head slightly.
"I've forgotten so much," she told him. "And yet… I feel like there is someone inside of me that is trying to get out. I don't know how to help her."
Her voice trailed off as she sniffled again, wiping her eyes with one hand. She looked up, watching the group of militia fighters as they pivoted into another round of sparring.
Cloud held his breath, watching Tifa's face as her eyes followed the back-and-forth movements of the militia group in front of them. Her hands trembled.
Cloud knew what it was like to be missing wide swaths of memories, to not know who you were completely. There were days where he suddenly remembered things about himself that he found surprising - skills and knowledge he had that he never remembered having. He realized then that Tifa seemed unaware of her skills as a fighter, and that seeing the practicing militia had triggered something.
Hesitatingly, he reached out, taking her hand. He was careful about touching her, not wanting to cross any boundaries with her when things were so shaky and weak between them. But he needed to ground her, to bring her out of her sudden despair and let her know that she was okay.
"Do you remember?" he asked her, nodding at the militia fighters. "Do you remember fighting, Tifa?"
She turned to him, blinking at him. He half expected her to take her hand away, but she didn't, simply curling her fingers beneath his. She still wasn't wearing her gloves or armor and Cloud suspected that was another reason she was still feeling so confused.
"I…" she trailed off, looking back down at where their hands were clasped together. "I remember it distantly. Training, pain, the rush of cold mountain air in my lungs. But how did I learn? What kind of fighter am I?"
Cloud couldn't resist squeezing her hand slightly beneath his. "You learned from Rashard Zangan, Tifa," he answered softly. "The master himself. You're one of his disciples, I guess you could say."
Tifa blinked, looking back up at him. "Disciples?" she repeated.
"You've mastered the art," Cloud added softly. "You're the best there is, after all."
Tifa laughed ruefully, shaking her head as she looked away again. Reluctantly, Cloud let go of her hands, slipping away from her as she dropped hers back into her lap. She wrung her hands together there, sniffling again as she tried to even out her breathing.
"Why are we fighting, Cloud?" Tifa asked, watching the group of militiamen and women as they practiced and sparred. "Why were the others talking about the planet being in danger? Why have we been traveling together? Why did I fall into the reactor?"
Cloud felt a lump form in his throat as her questions stacked, each one more harrowing than the last. The mention of the reactor made his insides lurch, and he turned back to stare in the direction of the doomed facility, the sun beginning its descent behind it as dusk approached.
"It's a long story, Tifa," he said. "Do you remember anything about AVALANCHE?"
Tifa shook her head, her eyes connected with his, waiting for him to help her fill in the gaps.
Cloud sighed lightly, sitting back on the bench. "Well… it's been five years since I've seen you, Tifa," he began. He frowned, realizing how traumatizing it would be to suddenly start talking about Nibelheim and the way their home had been destroyed. "We can talk more about that later… but when I reunited with you in Midgar, you were running your own bar called Seventh Heaven. But you and Barret were also part of an anti-Shinra organization called AVALANCHE."
Tifa tilted her head at him curiously, turning to face him on the bench. She pulled up one knee to her chest, hugging herself close as she leaned in to listen to him.
Cloud nodded, easing closer to her. He nodded back at the reactor in the distance. "The disturbances in the reactor that we went to check out the other day occurred because Shinra's been draining the planet of all of the Lifestream and refining it into mako, which is causing the planet to fight back. That's why the WEAPON emerged." He paused, deciding to return to the events in the reactor at another time.
He explained to Tifa how when they'd reconnected in Midgar, she had been a part of what Shinra had deemed an eco-terrorist organization. He told her of the bombing missions they had participated in and how all of it had led them to meet Aerith Gainsborough - an Ancient - and to find out that their fight was against a darkness that ran even deeper than the avarice of a world power and transnational corporation. Tifa listened intently, her eyebrows furrowed as Cloud explained that Sephiroth was their target.
What he couldn't bring himself to tell her was how Sephiroth had burned their village to the ground five years ago, how Tifa had nearly died at Sephiroth's hand back then and nearly died at his own just days ago.
"It seems so hard to believe…" Tifa murmured after he paused to let her digest everything he had recounted. She was looking down at her hands again, this time flexing them into fists. "To think I had a part in all of that… that that's what we're fighting for…"
Her voice broke and trailed off, and Cloud watched as her shoulders began to heave slightly, rising and falling as she took in sharper breaths. He could almost see the anxiety rippling off of her, her brow furrowing in confusion and disbelief as she mulled it over.
"I just don't know how…"
Her voice broke and Cloud felt stricken again, frozen in place and unsure how to act. He so badly wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her fears and doubts away, to let her know with his touch that everything would be okay and that she would soon remember everything that made her who she was. After all, it was his touch that he had always relied on to comfort and secure her.
He looked down at his own hands. He couldn't do that, not anymore. He was foreign to her, and the guarded and dubious looks she continuously gave him warned him away from trying. He clenched his right hand into a tight fist, shaking his head as he thought about his own degradation and how losing Tifa meant losing himself.
Despite the terror that thought instilled in him, he couldn't give up. Tifa may not have remembered their promise, but he would keep it no matter what.
"Tifa," he interjected softly. "You may not remember it all now, but you will. But just know that you're strong. And brave. That's why you're fighting."
She looked up at him, lips parted as if slightly stunned, ruby red eyes glinting under the flutter of thick, dark lashes. The depth of her stare tangled him, and it almost implored Cloud to impulsively take her hand. The crack of thunder in the distance snapped them both out of the reverie they were suddenly caught in.
"Shit," Cloud swore softly, looking up at the now rapidly darkening sky. "I think it's gonna storm. It's getting late, anyway. Think we should head back, Tifa."
He waited patiently for her response. He wasn't sure if Cissnei was home yet, but even so, returning to the house meant he and Tifa would once again be faced with their discarded trails of memories and the ensuing puzzle pieces they left to solve. It was awkward and uncertain and Cloud knew, despite his hopes and desires, how hesitant Tifa was about spending time alone with him. He wanted to insist, but he also want to be sure that he waited for her assent. Before her amnesia, it had always been so easy for them to communicate and agree and for him to gather her consent for everything with as little as a quick glance or a fleeting touch. Now, though, Cloud knew he had to put in more effort.
Tifa heaved out a little sigh, looking up at the sky. After a beat, she finally turned back to him, giving him a tiny, tentative nod.
"Okay."
The rain began to lightly fall, the sky hazy and dim by the time they made it back to Cissnei's house. Cloud hurried to run for the front door, opening it for Tifa so she could scurry inside ahead of him. She offered him a small, grateful smile, wiping her boots off on the welcome mat in the foyer as she stepped inside the warm and cozy hut.
It was quiet and dark inside. Cissnei was apparently still not home. The fact of this made Tifa's gut twist, the realization that she was once again left alone with Cloud.
It made everything feel leagues more overwhelming. Just sitting next to Cloud on the bench in town had left her feeling shaky and unwound. His presence was debilitating. She wasn't sure what it was, but his closeness produced a distant ache in her, at war with the peculiar strangeness of a man she was supposed to know almost intimately and yet could not locate the tethers of such a bond.
She clasped her hands in front of her, resisting the urge to retreat to the guest bedroom again and lock the door, closing herself off so she could gather her thoughts. She was still trying to process their conversation on the bench, trying to reconcile the longing her muscles felt at watching those men and women train. It felt strange to suddenly know that she was a fighter and had taken up such a grand cause, but the lack of understanding of why or how left her feeling bleary and empty.
Still, she didn't want to be rude. If nothing else, Cloud was patient with her. And he was kind. She could see in the watery depths of his glowing turquoise eyes that he wanted more, was craving a connection that she sadly could not remember. But he didn't push.
He stayed close but out of reach, a rock that was ready for her to lean on should she need him.
Awkwardly, Tifa stood in the center of the living room, glancing around and staring at her boots. Cloud stalked inside, pausing to glance at her after he locked the front door. She saw him clench his fists and stop as if he were going to say something before he continued moving through the house, his attention landing on a slip of paper on the kitchen table.
Tifa watched him silently as he read the paper quickly and then put it down. He looked over at her, those hazy blue-green eyes glowing in the dimness of the abode.
"Cissnei had to leave town," he announced. "She'll be back in a few days. Anyway… she says we can stay as long we clean up after ourselves and we don't let anyone else in while she's gone."
He returned to the living room, his steps measured and slow as he stared at her. Tifa didn't know what to say in response. Her heart had lurched at this information. Knowing that Cissnei was around had made her feel a little more comfortable about her current situation. It wasn't ideal, of course, but being alone with a man she had a history with but couldn't remember simply frightened her.
She looked up at Cloud, his blue eyes placid but masking a war within. She wasn't afraid of him. It was just the idea of all of this.
She was mostly afraid of her own memory… or lack of it, and what that meant for her life in the near future.
Her stomach rumbled loudly then, interrupting her thoughts. Cloud raised an eyebrow at the sound, and she saw the corner of his mouth quirk upward ever so slightly.
"I'm pretty hungry too," he stated, turning back to the kitchen. He scratched the back of his neck, looking around awkwardly before sighing and turning back to her.
"I'm not much of a cook, though," he admitted, his pale cheeks taking on a subtle pink hue. "You kinda spoiled me back at Seventh Heaven."
He gave her a tentative look, as if testing the waters and awaiting her reaction. Tifa found herself somewhat surprised by his statement.
"Seventh Heaven?" she repeated.
Cloud retreated deeper into the kitchen, taking a moment to light the small lanterns on the table and countertop. The rain was beginning to fall in earnest now, clattering at the windows, and the sun had fully gone down, dark clouds blackening the sky and leaving it to grow rather dark indoors. The soft illumination was welcome and helped Tifa feel at ease.
Shadows danced across his face as he leaned back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. "Seventh Heaven is the bar you owned in Midgar," he explained quietly, his cheeks warming even further for some reason. "A bar and restaurant. You're a really good cook, Tifa, and since we -"
He stopped there, frowning inwardly before he shook his head and sighed. "After you and I ran into each other back in Midgar, I spent a lot of time there, while taking odd jobs for you and AVALANCHE. So I got to have a first-hand taste of your cooking."
He gave her a slight smirk, and Tifa could not ignore the flush of warmth that radiated from low in her belly all the way up to her cheeks. She could feel herself blushing, and she dipped her chin slightly to look away from him, her heart pounding as feelings she didn't understand nor recognize began to swell.
"I see," she replied softly.
She drifted further into the kitchen, looking around at the pots and pans and utensils, the sink and the stove, and even the icebox. More warm waves of distant, familiar thoughts floated above her, just out of reach, the fragments of memories of standing side by side with older women at her side in a rustic little kitchen whose bay windows overlooked a distant, gray mountain range.
It was then that Tifa remembered the mushrooms she had picked when walking through the village earlier. A sudden jolt of excitement ran through her, and she approached the kitchen counter next to Cloud, carefully unpacking them and laying them out on the wood.
"I… I think I can make a nice pilaf with this, if Cissnei has some rice and veggies in stock. It's not much, but it'll be quick and filling."
Cloud nodded, his smile expanding slightly as he pushed away from the counter. "I'll help," he offered sweetly.
Tifa found herself blushing again, and they avoided eye contact, Cloud turning away to rummage through Cissnei's cabinets. Tifa swallowed, trying to calm her wayward and conflicted thoughts by focusing on searching the icebox for vegetables.
After washing her hands, she settled on stalks of leeks and scallions, bringing everything to the counter and grabbing a knife to begin chopping. She didn't even realize the ease with which she fell into the routine - muscle memory picking up where her brain had dropped off, a faraway recipe forming in her mind as she gathered the ingredients and got to work. Cloud found a bag of rice and brought it to her, a sheepish look on his face that betrayed that he had no idea what to do with it.
She laughed, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders and the center of her chest for the first time since she woke up after the reactor fall. It was nice to find amusement in something, and she had to admit that Cloud's flushed cheeks and embarrassed smile felt familiar to her. They warmed her, and made her feel as if everything was going to be okay.
She wasn't sure why.
They worked in companionable silence, Tifa gently calling out instructions and asking Cloud for help as she cooked. He assisted her eagerly and without complaint, trailing her throughout the kitchen like a heeling puppy. They fell into such a natural and easygoing rhythm working side by side without even trying that Tifa found herself completely surprised by it all by the time the pilaf was ready.
"This smells great, Tifa" Cloud said. "Here, you've done enough. Sit down and I'll bring everything over."
Tifa stopped, lowering the spoon she was holding back into the pot. He was suddenly standing so close, hovering over her, one hand reaching for the bowl, the other on her wrist. She hadn't even realized he'd gotten so close. The warmth of his body had been so pleasant and familiar that it wasn't until he spoke that she realized he was close enough that she could smell the faint scents of cedar and leather that drifted off of him.
She looked up at him, somewhat stunned. His proximity once again betrayed that their relationship must have crossed boundaries beyond friendship at some point. Something special Aerith had said. Tifa wanted so badly to know what that meant.
Cloud was beautiful, she realized, looking up at him. Beautiful in an almost admirable and distant way. And her faded, missing memories of him and their relationship only reinforced that she was so far away from him, no matter how close he stood.
The prolonged pause that developed alerted Cloud to how close he was standing, and Tifa realized by the way he widened his eyes that he hadn't even intended to get that close. It had simply happened and it was more evidence that there was more to their relationship than she currently understood.
"Sorry," he murmured, turning the heat off the stove. "Come on, have a seat."
Tifa did as he asked and was grateful for the distraction while Cloud prepared two plates for them both and brought them to the table, serving her like a perfect gentleman. His eyes were averted from her the entire time, and when he sat down, he picked up his fork, his cheeks still bright as he dug in.
"Let's eat," he commanded quietly. "Should help you recover faster if you get a good full meal in."
Tifa nodded, smiling slightly as she carefully dug into her food. After the first bite, she realized how voracious she was. And the food was surprisingly tasty. Cloud was right; she was a good cook.
"You haven't forgotten how to cook, Tifa," Cloud remarked. He had already cleaned his plate, washing it down with a glass of water. "Delicious as every meal you made back at Seventh Heaven. Guess that's a good sign, huh?"
She appreciated his optimism, offering him a small smile as she nodded. Despite his generally brusque and stoic demeanor, there was an eagerness and a softness to Cloud that made him seem interchangeably boyish as he was manly and tough. She wasn't sure why, but it set off butterflies in her tummy.
"I can't disagree," she added. "This is pretty good. Gongaga mushrooms make for some great dishes."
"You had a really extensive menu at Seventh Heaven," Cloud responded, almost as if he was proud.
Tifa blushed again, catching the hint of Cloud's smile before he focused his attention on his drink. She wondered again about this life of hers before they'd arrived in Gongaga, how she had become involved with AVALANCHE, and how she came to own a bar of all things.
But even more, at that moment, she wanted to know about her reunion with Cloud.
"Cloud?" she queried, setting her fork down. "You said we reunited after five years, right? How did we reunite? And… when had we last seen each other?"
Cloud grew quiet, his face growing serious and stony again. She could see his jaw set, his blue eyes darting to and fro as he thought about his response.
"I… I was in SOLDIER," he explained. "I defected from Shinra after a mission in our hometown of Nibelheim went wrong five years ago. You must have moved to Midgar after everything that happened in Nibelheim, but I didn't catch up with you again until a couple of weeks ago at the train station in Sector Seven. You told me about the AVALANCHE job, and that's how this all started."
He went on a little bit, elaborating on reactor bombings and Shira's oppressive activities. Tifa listened quietly, trying to piece everything together as he recounted the events of the past weeks as carefully and succinctly as he could. Faded memories blurred around the edges of her mind as he spoke, more feelings and colors and smells than anything she could visualize. Still, Tifa was stunned by what she learned.
Cloud seemed to dance around the nature of their relationship as he spoke, instead focusing on the details of how they'd come to fight alongside each other. Tifa pondered on this when he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest again.
"What happened in Nibelheim?" she asked. The memories of mountains and cold gales pulsed again.
Cloud looked up at her, his face somewhat pained. He hesitated, his lips parted slightly as he struggled to get the words out. Tifa watched the ripple of emotions cross his features, her heartbeat beginning to rise in anticipation.
Finally, he sighed. "It burned down," he conceded softly. "It… was Sephiroth."
Tifa's heart began to race. Flames licked at her vision, blurred and distant, their heat singeing her skin. It was almost as if she were standing in the midst of it all again, feeling the burn and smelling the ash and hearing the screams, but seeing nothing of the memory in front of her. She frowned, looking down at her hands.
"Papa…"
Horror washed over as the memory returned in a sudden burst of color and heat. Her father's body sprawled out along the catwalk, lifeless and still, blood pooled around him.
Her father.
Dead.
Sephiroth. Shinra. Mako. SOLDIER.
Cloud pushed back in his chair suddenly, dragging it around the table so he could pull it up in front of her. He leaned forward, looking at her with concern in his eyes.
"It's okay, Tifa," he said softly. She gasped slightly when she felt his hand reach for hers, gloved fingers curling around hers in a gentle hold. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
Tifa glanced down at their hands. His presence so close so suddenly helped to calm the rage and horror that wound itself up inside of her at the return of the painful vision. She blinked, lowering her head and closing her eyes so she could comb through the branching memories that faded into the background - faint remembrances of her father carrying her in his arms or brushing her hair from her face, calling her pumpkin from across the dinner table with a smile.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "It's- it's okay. I'm okay."
She breathed in deeply, trying to will the tears back. Cloud scooted his chair even closer, leaning in, his leather and steel gloved hands tightening around hers. "Did you remember something, Tifa?"
She exhaled. The tears stung the corners of her eyes but she held them back, her lashes feeling flooded.
Papa .
"Papa," she repeated the word echoing in her mind to Cloud. "I remember him… But it's so hazy."
Cloud stared and Tifa could see the glimmer of hope shine through the concern in his eyes. He nodded, the corner of his lips turning up in a slight smile.
"It's a start, Tifa," he murmured.
She looked up at him. "I remember him dying," she added.
Her heart was sinking, and she could see the sadness enveloping Cloud's expression. His lips parted as if about to speak, but he said nothing. Tifa slid her hand from his, suddenly overwhelmed and wanting to be alone with her thoughts and her damaged memories.
"I think I'm going to go to bed now," she told him. "Thank you for helping me with dinner."
She got to her feet, taking her plates over to the sink and avoiding Cloud's burning blue gaze. His chair scraped against the floor as he got to his feet, and when Tifa turned around, she saw him standing there, staring at her with his mouth still open.
"I-" he started, then blushed slightly and looked away. "Are you sure? I mean, do you want to talk about it more? I'm happy to listen."
Tifa's heart began to pound again, that familiar heat rising inside of her, a warmth so comforting it was almost frightening. It felt both new and like something she had lived with her entire life, almost too comfortable to be real. She hesitated for a moment, searching his face for any signs of insincerity or hidden motives. But all she found in his earnest expression was genuine concern and a glimmer of something else she couldn't quite place.
Taking a deep breath, Tifa finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I appreciate that, Cloud. But this… I'm not sure if I can talk about this right now." She paused, gathering her thoughts as she looked down at her hands fidgeting nervously in front of her.
Cloud nodded understandingly, not pushing further but offering silent support with his mere presence. She met Cloud's gaze once more, his soft blue eyes. "Thank you," she said softly, the words carrying more meaning than she could express. "I'll see you in the morning."
He looked like he wanted to respond, but Tifa needed to sever the blinding connection she felt snapping into place between them. Her chest felt heavy with the weight of it and she needed some time to think and figure out how she was going to move forward with her slowly returning memories that were clearly full of terror and trauma, all while navigating her relationship with him.
"Goodnight, Tifa."
His voice was gentle and soft, drifting behind her like the clouds that were his namesake. She blushed again and left the kitchen quietly, slipping into the guest room where she finally paused and breathed, the anxiety lifting for at least a moment.
Now that she was alone, she could think over her memories more clearly. Her anger at Shinra and the past began to stack, the pain of losing her home and her father slowly returning to her. One thing led to another as she went into the bathroom to wash up and change into sleepwear for the night, her head beginning to pound as memory upon memory returned to her like a chain link fence. Memories of Nibelheim and her mother and father, faint and lacking cohesion but still beginning to paint a picture where a blank canvas had been left.
By the time she had changed and climbed into bed, she was so dazed by what she'd remembered and the confusion it left her with that she found it impossible to fall asleep. With each passing minute, the weight of her past pressed down on her chest, suffocating her with its intensity. She tossed and turned for what felt like hours, trying to shake off the flood of memories threatening to drown her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape the ghosts of Nibelheim.
And she couldn't escape the indescribable longing she felt for the blond-haired boy who sat on the other side of that bedroom door. And as the moon rose high in the sky, casting an eerie glow through her window, she finally gave up on sleep.
She couldn't be alone.
Tifa's absence left Cloud with an emptiness that ached, leaving him staring at the door to the guest bedroom she'd disappeared behind for long moments before he sighed and turned away, shaking his head and looking down at his hands again. The entire day he felt as if he was taking two steps forward and three steps backwards with Tifa. The little progress they made in their conversations and in helping Tifa with her memory was quickly undone by the awkwardness that lived between the planes of their relationship. And none of this was helped by the fact that his own memory was broken and he was living with the constant reminder of his degradation.
Cloud paced the living room with his thoughts for a while before finally giving up and giving in to his body's desire for sleep. He could survive for a while without it with his enhancements, but even so, after Tifa's fall, he realized he hadn't slept in close to three days. It was beginning to take its toll.
His mind repeated his conversations with Tifa throughout the day as he claimed the daybed next to her room, pulling his armor off and changing into the sweats he'd brought for sleepwear. His body ached and he wasn't sure why, but he was beginning to realize that the lingering effects of his last fight with Shinra in the reactor were creeping up on him thanks to his general neglect of his body.
It made him realize how much Tifa had taken care of him before all of this happened. Tifa before the fall made sure he ate and slept and drank plenty of water. She was always at his side when one of his strange headaches attacked or when his mind was plagued by visions of vengeful enemies. And she was the only who he confessed his deepest, darkest fears to, the fears of his own unraveling, the fear that he might become one of those dark robes they were pursuing.
He admitted that the absence of that Tifa was what was destroying him from the inside out. He felt so far away from her now, a painful realization after the way that they had begun to close a five-year gap between them in the last few weeks. He had held Tifa in his arms and he had even kissed her, despite his unforgivable transgression in the reactor.
Now all of that was erased. Now he was fighting for Tifa to just remember who she was and where she'd come from, which was no easy task with how destructive their pasts had been. It hadn't occurred to Cloud at first, but he realized now that Tifa would be confronting a lot of forgotten trauma as her amnesia faded and her memories returned. It made him ache inside.
He lay there in the darkness, his mind racing with thoughts of Tifa and their tumultuous journey. The weight of his promise to her bore down on him like a heavy burden, reminding him of the gravity of their situation. With each passing moment, he could feel the distance between them growing, like an insurmountable obstacle standing in the way of their fragile connection.
As he closed his eyes and tried to push away the doubts that threatened to consume him, a sudden noise outside Tifa's room caught his attention. Sitting up alert, he strained to listen for any signs of danger. The hallway was shrouded in silence, broken only by the soft rustling of curtains in the night breeze.
The door to her room slowly crept open, Tifa's figure outlined in the shadows and the streaks of moonlight. His eyes were glued to her, knowing every line of her curves even from where he lay back with his hands behind his head. She took a few tentative steps forward, the floorboards creaking under her bare feet.
Cloud's heart raced as he watched Tifa move closer, her silhouette both familiar and foreign in the dimly lit room. He could sense her hesitation, her uncertainty palpable even from where he lay. It was as if she was searching for something, reaching out for a connection that had been fractured by the cruel hands of fate.
Without a word, Tifa approached the daybed where Cloud lay, her eyes searching his face as if trying to decipher a long-forgotten puzzle. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, heavy with emotions neither of them dared to voice. He sat up slowly to get a better look, his eyes glowing against the darkness, his heart racing as he stared up at her.
"Can't sleep?" he asked her, hoping the familiarity of his words might recall a more pleasant memory, one of when they were closer than they'd ever been, one where flowers and artificial stars had been the only witness to the momentary surge of feelings he still longed to express.
She shook her head, staring at the empty space on the daybed beside him. Cloud felt his heart pound and his skin flush with heat.
Tifa doesn't want to be alone , a voice inside of him screamed.
Cloud's hand twitched involuntarily, a silent invitation for Tifa to join him on the bed. She hesitated for a moment before slowly sinking down beside him, their shoulders almost touching, Tifa sliding back against the window.
As they sat there in silence, an invisible thread seemed to weave between them, drawing them closer together despite the vast emptiness that yawned before them. It was a fragile moment, hanging in the balance like a delicate dance on the edge of a precipice.
Cloud could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing against his chest, threatening to spill out and shatter the fragile peace that enveloped them. Memories were missing but so were feelings, hanging somewhere in the ether above them. He turned his head to glance at Tifa, her features bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains. Her eyes reflected a myriad of emotions - confusion, longing, and a hint of fear.
Without a word, Cloud reached out tentatively and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Tifa's face, his touch feather-light against her skin. She flinched slightly at the contact but didn't pull away. In that fleeting moment, it felt as if time itself had stilled, trapping them in a cocoon of silence and raw emotions.
Tifa's gaze met his, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded into insignificance. In her eyes, Cloud saw a reflection of his own doubts and fears, mirrored back at him with heartbreaking clarity. It was a silent plea for reassurance, for understanding in the face of overwhelming uncertainty.
Cloud had promised he would be there for her when she needed him, when she was in trouble. In his heart, he had always known what that truly meant.
Without breaking eye contact, Cloud mustered all the courage he had left and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "Whatever you need, Tifa," he whispered. "I told you I'd be here for you."
She looked up at him with glassy carmine eyes, and he could see from their red rims and damp lashes that she had been crying again. It shattered him inside.
But he was surprised when Tifa scooted a little closer to him, as if chasing the warmth of his body. At least it seemed that way. Maybe he imagining it. She pulled her knees up to her chest, holding them with both her arms as she lowered her head, the moonlight sinking into her inky tresses.
"Tell me about Nibelheim," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Happy things."
He could feel her warmth, her body gently leaning closer to his. His heart was beating so loud that he was certain Barret and the others could hear it in Cosmo Canyon.
Cloud's memories of Nibelheim and his youth were hazy in places. But there were plenty of things that he remembered.
"You like cats," he began.
And so he began recounting what he remembered, of Tifa's cat Maru and how he would run away. There weren't many memories that they shared, but there was plenty to tell her about the town and the people. He spoke of the soothing but tumultuous sound of the Gunnthra River flowing on the outskirts of town, the way the sunsets painted the mountains in hues of pink and gold, and the laughter that echoed through the streets during the annual harvest festival.
He spoke until he felt her head touch his shoulder, her body leaning against his completely, a tiny smile gracing her lips.
She had drifted off to sleep, safe at his side.
Where she belonged.